


PTA Meetings and Skincare Products

by somewhereelse



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Future Fic, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 21:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Future-ish fic. Felicity does her best June Cleaver impression. Naturally, things don't go as planned.





	PTA Meetings and Skincare Products

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: The title is literally a conversation I eavesdropped on in a coffee shop. It's not my fault. My brain auto-multitasks like that.

Felicity should have remembered to keep quiet as she agitatedly stomped her way into the apartment, but she was too preoccupied by the thought that she now knew why Donna Smoak never joined the PTA back when she was a kid. Well, aside from the whole ‘single parent with multiple jobs’ thing. Letting the door slam behind her, she tossed her purse on the counter before kicking her heels into a corner and whipping her jacket off to land mostly on the couch. The commotion must have drawn William out of his room because when she turned around, he was standing there in his pajamas, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

 _Whoops_.

“Felicity?”

“Hey, sorry,” she breathed out apologetically, gesturing vaguely at the mess with tired hands.

He narrowed his eyes at her and took a tentative step closer. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, her heart ached for Samantha for the millionth time, that she would never get to see this polite, thoughtful boy she raised. One who took the cruel, new reality of his life with more grace and bravery than could be expected. That was her harsh reminder to keep her frustrations in, to paste a smile on her face and send him back to bed. Her mom had done it countless times before on more desperate nights than the one she was experiencing.

“I’m fine. You should go back to sleep.”

Obviously, it was too gentle a suggestion because William made a face, the same face Oliver made before he second-guessed her information, and raised an eyebrow. “You went to that PTA meeting tonight, didn’t you?”

A slight growl escaped her throat, and she quickly schooled her face back to neutrality. She only went because William had mentioned the school had cut the technology classes on offer. Given her background, Felicity obviously found that unacceptable and immediately decided to raise hell about it. Oliver had offered to go, but as the technologically gifted person in their partnership and the kinda, sorta, almost step-parent trying to take a more active role in William’s life, Felicity insisted. She didn’t expect to regret the decision five minutes into the meeting.

“Yeah,” she admitted, forcing a laugh into her voice, “It was an adventure. One I can tell you about in the morning. Because you should be in bed. Where’s Oliver?”

“He went to the bunker real quick,” William informed her, “He was going to call Raisa back, but I said I was fine by myself until you got home.”

And of course he was. By the time she was twelve, Felicity spent most nights by herself out of necessity because her mom was working. And with the way they all unintentionally smothered William, she imagined he was glad for the reprieve. That Oliver allowed it was an entirely different surprise.

“I guess I can’t take that programming class next year?”

His hopelessly defeated question broke Felicity’s mental dam.

“Ugh! It was the worst! They didn’t even want to talk about the class schedule or _anything_  substantive. It was all ‘who’s having an affair with who?’ and ‘have you noticed that nose job?’ and ‘how do we redraw the district lines to keep out the kids from the Glades?’ Which, and I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but separating the rich and poor is _so_ not the actual point of school districts. That jackass’s kids better not be in your class. What was his name? _Livingston_ ,” she spat with all the derision she could muster.

William’s eyes went wide at the same time Felicity froze, realizing that she just swore in front of him. “What? What’s wrong?” Instead of looking thrilled to catch her swearing, he looked as caught off-guard as she did.

“No, Caleb’s not in my class,” he answered quietly, staring down at his bare feet. “He—uh, he—”

“He’s the one who hit you!?” Felicity concluded when he refused to meet her eyes. Jerkily, she strode toward her purse and her tablet, “Of course, a man like that would raise a bully,” she muttered distastefully. “You want a hit? I’ll show you what a hit looks like. A hit to your bank account, that is. Your donation to the Glades Memorial Fund will be greatly appreciated.”

“What are you _doing_?”

In her anger, somehow, she’d forgotten that William was still standing there. And that she probably shouldn’t hack an FDIC insured bank in front of him. Because when she looked up, instead of appearing horrified, William had an eager glint in his eye. _Uh oh_. The last thing she needed was Oliver finding out she’s turning his seventh grader into a budding hacker. Slowly putting the tablet back down, she smiled tightly. “Realizing that it’s far too late for me to be ranting at you about adults who need better lives and priorities.”

William wasn’t deterred. He edged closer, peering at her now-dark screen. “You were going to _do_ something to Caleb’s dad, right? To teach him a lesson?”

“No!” Felicity drew out the word unconvincingly based on the grin William gave her.

“Will you teach me?”

She groaned to herself. So she had correctly identified that eager look. Given his proficiency in math, she should have suspected as much. “How about this? You go back to bed because Oliver is bound to be home soon and he’s going to be mad at both of us if you’re up. Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you some coding stuff. _Legal_ stuff, not stuff you use to hack your classmates’ social media accounts.”

Well, maybe not yet, but William was resourceful and she was sure he’d get there. The point was that she’d have plausible deniability. Okay, that wasn’t the point when she was _co-parenting_. She’d just have to teach him how to cover his tracks really well.

“Deal,” he agreed brightly. He stuck out his hand, and Felicity quickly shook it. “But are you going to go to bed?”

Well, no. She was still too wound up from those assholes masquerading as concerned parents. Usually, she’d head to the bunker to take her aggression out on the heavy bag since Oliver hadn’t gotten around to installing gym equipment at home, but she didn’t want to leave William alone again. Not with his penchant for nightmares and Oliver assuming she’d be home soon when he left.

William must have read the hesitation on her face because he pounced with another question. “Can I stay up with you?”

Both she and Oliver knew that he was negotiating for later and later bedtimes not just because he was a kid, but also because he was trying to avoid his nightmares. The therapist had cautioned them against giving in  _too_ often to prevent bad habits from forming, but Felicity was kind of a sucker. Especially when William pouted at her in a way she assumed was a Queen family trait since she’d seen the same expression on Oliver and Thea.

“That depends. How do you feel about face masks?”

Felicity offered the question because she had overheard one of the moms recommending a product she had sitting unopened in the medicine cabinet and because she assumed William would immediately refuse. Meaning she’d get him to bed without being the bad guy in this situation. As expected, William’s nose scrunched, and he shook his head at her.

“You mean like green gunk and cucumbers?” Felicity nodded in the affirmative and was completely taken aback when he threw out an, “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” she asked because _what_?

“Mom liked them,” he answered simply. His response was tinged with heavy sadness, and she nearly dove for a blanket to wrap him up in a warm hug. “Sometimes I’d do them with her.”

“Okay then,” Felicity agreed readily. She wasn’t going to say ‘no’ to _that_. “The stuff’s in my—Oliv—the bathroom,” she stumbled over the right adjective, because technically she didn’t live there yet, but it was pretty much assumed between the three of them.

And that’s how Oliver found them: sitting at opposite ends of his bathtub, green gunk covering their faces, but no cucumbers because they’d fallen off as Felicity and William tried to toss popcorn into each other’s mouths.


End file.
